


The Start of a Nation and a Legacy

by orphan_account



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassin's Creed Fusion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-09-21 10:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9543323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The aftermath of the Revolutionary War. Connor, now in charge of the Davenport Homestead, plans on rebuilding the Assassin's Order. Almost all of the Templars and their allies are dead. A new nation and a revived Order must slowly be placed, piece by piece. And new recruits must be found. The years that follow their victory are hard, the good things balanced by the bad ones.George Washington has now resigned from his position as commander-in-chief, and Connor crosses paths with him and his allies.





	1. Chapter 1

The shore of Staten Island had seen its silent days. As the waves angrily crashed into the sand only to leave, relaxed, ships came and went. Although they brought cannons aside from goods during the last few years. Now, ships still remain anchored to the harbor. The flag of the new nation flown by their sails. The people of this new nation are gathered on the shore. Their minds are rejoicing in their independence, and their mouths are throwing insults at a ship flying the colors of their former colonizer. As the ship left the shore, a cannon was fired. The last projectile to ever strike at this war for freedom did not reach the shore. It fell and sunk below the waves. But this didn't stop the people from continuing to bade their jeering farewells to the British.

 Leaning on a stack of shipments was a man in white robes, navy blue bordering the clothing's edges. A hood was pulled low over his head, obscuring his eyes from the occasional glance. A small smile graced his lips as he watched the people. 

The people are free now.

But the grin left his features when he looked back and saw a man with two African-Americans on a platform. He was showing them to the people who chose to stay and watch. He knew they were going to be sold like objects, and they were going to work endlessly without freedom.

Not all people have been freed.

The ship was just a speck out in the horizon now, and the throng began to disperse. The man disappeared into the crowd.

 ---

A carriage pulled up in front of a two-story. As the horses halted, the coach stepped down from his seat and opened the door. A woman in a dress slowly stepped out. A hand was held by the coach to guide her, and her other arm carried her newborn child. Her husband followed from behind, nodding towards the coach once he stepped off the car. The door was closed and the carriage sped away. Then a cry came from the baby as he moved in his mother's arms.

"Don't cry, love," She whispers, slightly rocking him. The man smiled at his family, the twinkle in his eyes.

Once the child had calmed down, he spoke, "There are a few matters I still have to attend to. I'm sorry that I can't be with the two of you right now."

"It's alright," she replies, heading for the door. He began to walk towards the street.

"Alexander?" He turns at her calling,

"Yes?"

"Come back before the sun sets, please," 

"I will," he flashes her a smile, and continues his walk.

Alexander made his way to the square and let his eyes wander. He was now part of a new nation, after years of fighting. But the new nation needs someone to lead. With these thoughts in mind, he arrived at a spot beside a road. Two men were on a square of soil, playing  _bocce_. As they took turns throwing small balls at distances, Alexander greeted, 

"Commander Washington,"

They stop and one of them, dressed in a blue uniform, turned, "Alexander, you've arrived,"

He noticed the former general's companion: a man in white robes with his dark hair in a mohawk, there are lines of paint on his cheeks. From the man's skin color, he assumed he was one of the natives.

"I'd like you to meet Connor," said Washington, gesturing towards the man, "he has been a valuable ally during the War,"

"Alexander Hamilton," he extends a hand. The man slowly takes it with his own. After their hands shook, Alexander told Washington, "I've received news that you have resigned, sir,"

"That I have," came the response.

"But, sir, the people-"

"-want me to lead them," George finished his words," I know, I  _am_ thinking about it. But for now, I shall retire to Mount Vernon."

They engaged in deep conversation, though Connor seldom joined in. Family was now the topic when Alexander noticed that the sun was beginning to descend.

"Pardon me, sir, but I have to leave," he said, "I promised Eliza that I would return before sunset."

"Very well then, farewell, Alexander," said Washington. Connor only nodded at him before the former aide-de-camp turned and left. 

The street was silent when Hamilton walked on it. Too silent for the hour. But he continued on, his mind now focused on the plans the new nation could use. 

In fact, too focused that he didn't hear the _schwing!_ of a blade until he heard a thump from behind. Turning around, he saw a man in a brown coat lying face-down on the road, red blossoming from his back. Behind the body, with a dagger in his hand was-

"Connor?"

"He was planning to kill you. Look," When he did, he saw a flintlock pistol in the dead man's hand, a strange ring in one finger. Connor continued explaining, "He began following you when you left," He eyed the strange ring,"he was still loyal to the enemy,"

Alexander assumed he meant the man was a Loyalist. Before he could say something, Connor added, "Have a good evening, Mr. Hamilton," 

And so Connor swiftly slung the body over his shoulder, then quietly took his leave, leaving a surprised Alexander on the street.


	2. Chapter 2

The Davenport Homestead, home to many hardworking men and women, stood on the quiet countryside. Connor walked on the pathway, it was paved to lead towards the old manor. He glanced sideways at the pair of aged tombstones bearing indiscernible names. His eyes fell on the smaller tomb. The amulet- or the key, as the spirit had told him, was buried along with the deceased below the ground. But the Assassin quickly put away his thoughts as he finally entered the manor.

The stairs were up ahead. He was behind them and pulled down the nearest candelabra like a lever, causing its wall to shift, revealing a descending flight of stairs in a dark room. A few years ago, the illuminated wall that supported this basement had the portraits of Templars. Now maps of the continent were nailed to it, although "-wáhten" remained uncovered by the map. 

He looked down on the table before him, where letters and papers were scattered about on the wooden surface. Yes, he had cut off the head of the Templar snake, but the rest are still out there, planning and acting deliberately.

 _Just like the man who tried to kill Alexander Hamilton,_ he thought.

He pulled out the parchment that once belonged to the said attempted-murderer and read the writing,

_Mr. Green,_

_The British have lost the War, and so have we. However, we believe that this is not the End. We task You in eliminating those responsible for this, your contacts will tell you who they are. You are our only Chance in taking everything back. Success is expected of your Endeavor, and we pray you will get it done quick._

_Master P.S_

What are the Templars trying to do now? His eyes scanned the papers he had, but the answer remained unclear.

\---

Four men were seated around a table. Crucial plans and ideas were being passed around, papers traveled from hand to hand. A knock was heard from a wooden door, prompting the nearest man to open it. A young boy quickly handed a letter to him before leaving. As he returned to his seat, the man read the contents. When he finally sat down, shock was registered on his features. He held up a hand, calling for silence before he stood up.

"I have just received news that Amos Green has been killed during his task." Murmurs from the three men arose. 

"Master Scott, how could this be?"

"It was certainly one of those damned Assassins,"

"Impossible!"

Master Scott interrupted them, "Gentlemen, we will all investigate this matter. Let us hope that we will be led to the Brotherhood."

He placed the letter on the table. His brown hair was dimly shone on by the four small lamps the remaining Templars have managed to acquire. One man raised a question, along with himself from his chair as his spectacles reflected the light, "But how did the Brotherhood know of our plan?" 

The second man, his dark beard showing a few grey strands from age, spoke, "We could, perhaps, start from where Amos was supposed to start. We can question his contacts."

"But still," said the third, his worried expression not matching his spiky dark hair, "His targets can manage the land now that he is dead, how can we eliminate the Assassins' influence now?"

"Do not lose faith, Ellis," Master Scott reassured him, "we must be patient.

"What about the matter we were just talking about, sir?" 

The Master Templar placed both palms on the table, "Ah, yes, thank you, Ferdinand. The artifact. I believe you were the one continuing the report?" 

Ferdinand nodded, elated now that he could continue speaking, "As I was saying, this Dagger," he showed them the weapon, both its hilt and blade appeared to be solid gold, "is indeed a Precursor artifact. It was recovered from the two dead rebels at the Combahee River."

Master Scott eyed the Dagger, and in his eyes was a wanting kind of light. He immediately realized his change, so he simply nodded, "See to it that the Dagger is secured in a hidden location. Do not disclose any information about this to anyone outside this room," Then he addressed the rest, "Gentlemen, our meeting for tonight is over. May the Father of Understanding guide us all."

\---

Eliza Schuyler-Hamilton sat down on a wooden chair, her eyes focused on the window. In front of her was a crib that held her slumbering Philip. The sun was now turning a fresh orange. It had only been a few weeks since they moved to New York and her sister, Angelica left for Europe with her husband. Fortunately, she never felt lonely now that she's with her new family.

The door opened and Alexander entered the house, looking slightly astonished. Eliza stood from her place on the chair, "Alexander, you're back," she noticed the expression on his face, "Are you alright?"

He quickly smiled, "Yes, I am. I was just thinking about my recent task."

One of her brows almost arched in confusion, but she smiled back, "Well, it's time for me to prepare our dinner." She turned and headed towards the kitchen.

Alexander sighed and shot a glance at the window. The sky was now a darker blue, the sun dipping into the horizon.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Before anyone could realize it, the summer had already arrived, bringing with it heat. The rays of the sun shone through the windows of the Mount Vernon estate. Martha Washington strode along the hallways. It was only a few hours away until lunchtime but not too late into the morning, and yet she could hear her husband's voice reverberating behind the walls of his study. It was strange, for they weren't expecting any guests until later. Martha had only made up her mind to go see the unexpected visitor and was turning the knob of the door when she caught the last few words of George's apparent sermon,

"-banish these thoughts from your mind, never communicate, as from yourself, or anyone else, a sentiment of the like nature."

She allowed a pause before pushing the door wide open. George was behind his desk, both palms on its surface. He was glaring daggers at thin air. A mix of shock and weariness was registered on his face, but he changed back to his usual self when he locked eyes with her- giving a smile both warm and reassuring.

"Martha," He spoke her name like he had whenever the season's illness rendered him bedridden. 

"George," she smiled back, "were you talking to someone?"

"No, I was reading aloud a letter I plan to send," was a shaky lie, and yet he was picking up and shuffling a thin stack of papers as proof.

She knew something grave had happened, and he didn't want to say what. She decided not to press any further. But now her mind was drawn to another thought, "Isn't the Marquis supposed to arrive here today?"

"Yes, that's right," He said almost too quickly. Martha recalled how he was already out of the bed a few hours before dawn, and only now had she seen him. He stood up and allowed her to lead the way out of the room. 

As they walked through the hallways, George spoke, "There are people saying they want  _me_ to lead this country as a  _king_ ," He spoke those certain words as if they were of the devil. He shook his head, "That thought itself betrays our nation's ideals."

"Is that what the letter was about?" asked Martha. 

"Yes, it was,"

The door ahead was opened and the view of green grass and clear skies greeted them. Feet settled into the green blades as they moved forward. A few slaves were called, scurrying out of the house in preparation. Soon the clopping of horses was heard and a carriage was in their sights. Smiles reached their lips when it stopped, and its passenger stepped out.

"Gilbert!" George called out. The Marquis returned a smile as he approached the two.

"I'm glad I'm back," he said as they embraced. 

"We are as well," said Martha. 

They let go and another two pairs of hooves were heard, from a lone horse, it echoed until it got louder and nearer. Along with the sound was the equine and its rider approaching. Connor pulled the reins when they were near enough, then he halted his horse. He got off and walked towards them, giving a nod as a quiet greeting. George exchanged looks with him as if there was a silent understanding between them.

"Ah, Connor, you've arrived," he said.

"I apologize for the delay," said the Assassin," there were a few things I had to take care of," 

"Not at all, my friend," Lafayette replied, "I just got here,"

"I'd like to introduce you to someone," George said to him, "This is my wife, Martha." 

"I suppose you are the hooded man they speak of?" she asked, the conversations of the soldiers at Valley Forge coming to mind.

"Yes, Mrs. Washington,"  Connor nodded politely.

She smiled, "Well, gentlemen, I believe it is best that we continue our conversation inside," 

\---

The memories of the past couple of hours still troubled Connor's mind. He left Mount Vernon after reassuring Washington that the Apple had been disposed off. The sphere was now beneath Atlantic waves. Even George remained bothered by what they experienced. But they now have to focus on the present. Connor was now inside the Davenport Manor, talking to Duncan Little. The place was still like how he left it, a sense of relief filled him.

"I heard these fellows talking 'bout something ye might want to hear while I was at a pub," his fellow Assassin told him, "they were talking about the Templars and some Dagger, said it was really powerful," 

"There's still more Templars?"

"Apparently," Duncan answered gravely, "Followed them to a house but I couldn't get too far. They were real careful making sure no one was on their tail."

"Where did they go?"

Duncan told him. He nodded, "Thank you,"

Once the Irishman left, he went back to thinking; the way they spoke of this Dagger was like how one would speak of the Apple. He remembered the one he found when his people left their village, and the one he had recently dropped into the ocean. Considering what he had witnessed from the two, it was easy to assume that the Dagger was powerful like them, or even more.

_No man should possess a power so absolute._

He recalled his own words. The sun was about to set into the horizon. Connor had a plan, and he would carry it out tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back. The hiatus is broken. It took me two huge revising drafts for the final product. And what Washington says at the beginning is his dialogue at the end of the Tyranny of King Washington DLC, and is also a direct quote from a letter to Colonel Lewis Nicola regarding the monarchy idea. Now I have a few other Hamilton fics planned, though they're still ideas.


End file.
